We Are All Naked Dancing Sada Malumfashi1 She danced naked in the rain. 2 I must have been seven when Inna danced naked outside the mosque that night. The rain poured with rage, and with it came Inna banging on our door, howling Mother’s name. Her stench filtered...

Eyes Ola W. HalimWanga's speckled pigeons, Fyodor and Mary, are a spectacle. The clumps around their necks wiggle when they dance in the cage. Sometimes, Fyodor scampers around Mary while pecking at scurfs stuck to her tail. Mary struts away, her wings stiff and...

Qasida for the Sacred Mosque ML Kejera“The date was the First of Muharram of Islam’s year 1400 – which in calendars kept by infidel Westerners corresponded to November 20, 1979.” – Yaroslav Trofimov, The Siege of Mecca Sakinah smelled brimstone on Juhayman al-Otaybi...

Shaman Nicholas Cormier III Canto I: Shaman My mind first unravelled at 23. The exorcisms didn’t help. It’s hard to know what to make of the Catholic church breaking up with you. The gist of it was, Don’t call us we’ll call you. The priest was a Franciscan, a small...

Kwerekwere Alieu Bundu“Goodbye, Mama. See you soon,” Ayanda said in a voice devoid of warmth once the engine of the minibus she had boarded about ten minutes ago coughed to life. She and the other seven people in it were bound for Joburg, where she lived in...

A Spectator of a Cherished Intimacy Uzoma IhejirikaOn the night your father went missing, a friend in whose house you’d been squatting had kicked you out. It was the live-in maid who informed Kamsiyochukwu, your younger brother, who in turn passed the message to you....

Ndizamile Anathi JongilangaMama, you know there is no one in this world I love more than you. Head bowed, Nozamile nods, gives Siviwe a sidelong look - urging, cautious - from under the hand whose fingers smoothen the creases on her forehead. The sound of Mongezi’s...

Graded Alison OjanyI hate ice cream because of you, Mama. Still, you shove a sticky red devil in my hand. It is starting to melt so I eat it in three bites, leaving the stick with a smear of red. The sweetness sits at the tip and at the back of my throat in the place...

The Fog Sihle MthembuI suppose we’re all here for pretty much the same reason, so I won’t waste my time or yours on long introductions. I will however say for the benefit of anyone who might not know me, my name is Senzo and I’m 34 years old. Actually I’m turning 35...

Constellations Zoe Elerby Thankfully, it was cold. Dakota liked the cold, ironically, considering the suffocating rays they were born and raised in. They learned to walk on steaming hot soil. They learned to talk through the stifling barriers of humidity. Their skin...

Born Again Innocent Chizaram Ilo IThe women of Awele come to Miss Kish at Chalet 97 to be born again. A tall woman with black-pepper-sprinkled-on-sunflower skin and eyes that pretend to not see you owns the place. She is also the first woman to leave the man she was...

Bye Bye to B'ẹ́lẹ́ja yán Temitope Owolabi I still pick up my husband’s laundry every Friday, even match his socks for him, so he’s not running around like a headless chicken in the mornings trying to get ready for work. But these are mere gestures, actions...